Socket 1-3 - The Socket Greeny Saga

by Bertauski, Tony

Yeah, the lady I lived next to most my life. I watched her dog when she was away. She brought cookies over at Christmas and always sent a birthday card with money and a note that read, Don’t spend it all in one place. And now she just said hello to me, a little nervous about the long-haired teenager walking past her house.

  “She doesn’t remember me.”

  “Oh, no.” Chute squeezed me tight. “She has Alzheimer’s?”

  “No, she’s all right, as far as I know.”

  “Then what’s her problem?”

  “It’s a Paladin thing,” I said. “They call it fading.”

  “You’re turning invisible?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” I said. “No, it’s just that anonymity is important to Paladin service. People forget us, easily. We naturally emit energy that loosens memories to fall away from the mind. Now you see me.” I waved my hands in front of my face. “Now you forget.”

  “Why?”

  “It makes things less complicated. We can function with less attachment to relationships. At least that’s what they say.”

  “I don’t like that.”

  I didn’t want to tell her I didn’t mind it. I wasn’t big on conversation anyway. Now that people forgot me, it wasn’t rude for me to just avoid them.

  Azalea Park was densely wooded with stalwart pines and light-hogging magnolias. Cars were parked in the narrow slots between the trees. We walked through leafy corridors on the mulched paths. Chute slid her hand down my arm, her fingers twining with mine.

  We crossed over a foot bridge and found a bench at the koi pond. An enormous sculpture of a swan spread its wings in the center among water lilies and cattails. Another couple was tossing bread crumbs on the water and the greedy fish fought for them. We watched them giggle and snuggle. It was sickening, but I was doing the same thing so I needed to shut up.

  Several ducks hopped into the water, swimming after the bread crumbs that landed on the lily pads. They squawked at each other, nipping at each others’ wings to get the food first. Everybody wanted a piece. The couple threw the rest of the bag into the water to let the ducks and fish work it out before leaving.

  “I’m about to fall asleep.” Chute rested her head on my shoulder again.

  “It’s still daylight.”

  “It’s a school night,” she said. “I’ve got practice in the morning.”

  “You know, we used to goof on the jocks, and now you’re one of them.”

  I expected her to slug me one, maybe even walk away. I revealed what was on my mind. Maybe I was trying to get rid of some guilt, trying to blame her for Streeter. The way she said it at the table made it sound like his situation was my fault. I was a Paladin, I didn’t have a choice to leave him. But Chute didn’t have to play tagghet. She left because she wanted to.

  “I’ve followed you and Streeter all my life,” she said, “did all that virtualmode fighting and camping out when we were little because ya’ll wanted to, but I never really cared all that much, you know? I just needed something that was mine. Tagghet’s mine, it’s not yours. It’s not Streeter’s. It’s mine.”

  She watched the ducks spread out on the water.

  “Listen, I didn’t plan on playing tagghet, but I’m good at it and I want to share it with both of you. I want you at my games, to cheer me on. It’s not the same when you’re not there.”

  I bit my lip. I was having some stupid thoughts that didn’t need to become words. Maybe I was jealous she had something besides me. Jealous she loved something besides me. I wanted to be the center of her universe, not tagghet or anything else. I wanted to be her everything. Stupid. She was no sheep. And that’s why I was so into her.

  The magic was slipping away from the evening. It was going to end as horribly as the last time. Last time, someone shot at us. This could be worse. Panic clenched my chest.

  Chute wandered to an old bubble gum machine and inserted a coin. When she turned the handle, the ducks raced toward her. She caught the fish food falling out of the dispenser and flung the kernels at the foot of the sculpture. The ducks went after it.

  “I know I’m not saving the world,” she said. “It’s just a stupid game, I know, but it’s what I do, Socket. We all can’t be heroes.”

  “I’m no hero.”

  “Yes, you are.” She tossed more food in the water. “You stop time. You do things with thoughts. I’m not even sure how human that is, to be honest. That’s a lot for us to live up to. Streeter feels the pressure, too.”

  “I didn’t do that to Streeter. He’s got his own life.”

  She poked at the remaining food in her palm. “Did you forget what it’s like to be ordinary?”

  Something like that should’ve hurt like a poke in the eye, but she wasn’t saying it like an accusation. She wished, at some level, things were the same as before, I think. That the world’s problems didn’t get in the way. It was so easy when we were kids. Dreams were anything we wanted them to be, but now reality was here and it was so complicated. It wasn’t always what we wanted it to be.

  She gazed in her hand like the answer was in the fish food. I walked over and took it from her, scattered it over the pond. I took her hands. She looked into my eyes with an intensity that could’ve matched Pon. She grazed her fingertips over my face like it was Braille.

  “They won’t make me forget you, will they?” she asked.

  “That’s not possible.”

  We embraced for an eternal minute while the insects sang. She turned her head. I pressed my lips against hers. They were warm and wet and we melted together. Our energy mingled, open and defenseless. Her vibe was sweet and filling. I squeezed her tighter, closing my eyes and swimming through a swirling tide of emotions.

  Pon said I couldn’t come home. He was right. This was someplace entirely new.

  Chute jumped away and I was left empty-handed, still in mid-kiss. The ducks waddled after her, snapping at her hands.

  “They want more!” I said.

  “I don’t have any!” She scampered backwards and the ducks gave chase. She squealed with delight, yelping each time they snapped. It was the best sound in the world.

  “Make them go away!” she shouted.

  “Just throw at the water!”

  She faked a throw and the ducks went after the imaginary food. We made our escape into the dark path.

  The emotions were intoxicating, but each step took us closer to my house and the moment got farther away. The kiss was already a memory, it would stay at the koi pond. It wouldn’t last. It wasn’t meant to. Maybe that’s where Streeter was stuck, coming back to the cold empty present moment when he’d rather be in a world with his parents.

  Truth is, reality can suck.

  We stopped at her car, held hands. She bumped her forehead into my chin and I kissed it. No need to go any farther. And then she left.

  I stood in the street, watched the taillights turn at the corner. I stayed there, attempting to hold the moment, but it slipped away. There was no choice but to let it pass. I went into the house wondering when I’d have another moment like that. Reality was already starting to ache. Just another sacrifice a Paladin makes.

  Do you think reality cares how you feel?

  I didn’t sleep much that night.

  I stared at the Pollack poster, sorting through my thoughts. My emotions were like a boiling cauldron. One second they were sweet and dewy. The next, black smoke.

  Did you forget what it’s like to be ordinary?

  Mother came home after midnight. She cracked my door and I closed my eyes, pretended like I was sleeping. My emotions finally settled. And it was then that I gave way to sleep. It was fast and deep. Restful, until I dreamed.

  I dreamed I had fallen through thin ice. I flailed for safety, but the ice kept breaking. I sank into the cold black depths, too heavy to swim. Someone called to me. A voice gurgled through the water. It was far away and distorted.

  “Help,” it said.

  I awoke, startled. Light sliced through t
he blinds. A chilly sensation was still on my neck.

  The voice was mine.

  T R A I N I N G

  Old friend, New body

  Next morning, there were messages from Mother. I’d be returning to the Garrison at the end of the week. There was no time to waste; I went to Streeter’s house. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t, not after the half-truths I told Chute.

  There was no car in the driveway. I didn’t bother knocking, just went around the house. His window shade was up, his bed made and the virtualmode transporters on the dresser. Turns out, he wasn’t home. GPS located him on the Interstate heading for Charleston. Maybe his grandparents opened their eyes and saw him wasting away. There were plenty of good doctors in town, ones that specialized in gear addiction.

  I nojakked him and got his voice mail.

  “Streeter, hey, it’s Socket. Listen, I’m sorry about barging in on you yesterday and snooping around, but you should’ve seen yourself, man. You needed an intervention in a bad way. My only hope is that you’re getting help. Listen, I’m sitting on your front porch, right now. I’m going to hang out for a couple hours in case you get home. I’m probably leaving at the end of the week and don’t know when I’ll be back.

  “I want to see you before I go. I’m sorry about the mess you’re in. I miss hanging out with you and Chute, I wish it wasn’t like this, I really do. If I don’t see you today, I hope you can make it to her game tonight. Just ring me when you get there. Maybe afterwards, you and Chute and me can stop for a bite and live some old times. You know, like we used to. Anyways, hope to see you soon, buddy. Take care.”

  I stayed on the front porch the entire two hours, just like I said I would, occasionally checking the time, but for the most part I watched traffic. When two hours were up, Streeter was still downtown. Seemed like going to a tagghet game that night was not likely. I’d have to come back to his house the next day. This time, I’d bring Chute.

  At least Granny would remember her.

  That afternoon, I got more updates from the Garrison, this time an encrypted message through a secure connection. The message was narrated by a standard animated voice, announcing the planned funeral for one of Pike’s victims. The other two victims were undergoing psychic decompression, but they were expected to make full recoveries. The Garrison would be back to standard operation within three days. Just in time for my return.

  Pon was in transit, probably still occupied with Pike’s secure imprisonment. I didn’t expect to hear from him until I was back. For some reason, I wanted to hear his voice again. I must be losing my mind.

  I was in the kitchen when the imbed planted in my neck began to tingle, spreading around my scalp like electric fingers. I hadn’t triggered it to activate. It blurred my vision as it connected with my nervous system. Suddenly, someone was in the room.

  Pon faced me, hands locked behind his back. I was seeing him, but he wasn’t really there. No one else would see him, though. He was transporting his image directly into my eyes.

  Pon looked around, left and right, and smirked: A guttural acknowledgement of my home. Not a recording.

  He looked back at me. “Good morning, cadet.”

  I nodded.

  “You’ll be reporting to the Garrison in three days. I expect you to be fully prepared to continue training. I will not accept any reduction in your physical stamina. You will present a full synopsis and demonstrate a true understanding of your last exercise.”

  He outlined the physical exercises to be completed before returning and also explained that a virtualmode environment would be uploaded to my link along with a mission statement to be completed, which also had to be analyzed. I wasn’t sure if my mom approved, but I wasn’t going to ask. Sooner or later, I’d be back in the training room and she wouldn’t be around.

  “Is Pike secured?” I asked.

  “Do not concern yourself with such matters.” He paced to the right, stepping over a crumpled shirt. Is this really a projection? “I want you to remain focused on your training. Other matters will unfold as needed.” He stopped, lifted his chin with a slight nod. “Engage only in the present moment.”

  The electric fingers released my scalp and my eyes stung as the imbed disconnected. Pon disappeared. I touched the back of my neck. No one said the imbed could do something like that, but then maybe Pon was the only one that knew how.

  That evening, I was in the backyard doing pull-ups on a maple tree when a car pulled into the driveway. Two doors slammed but I couldn’t see who it was. They went inside the house, through the front door, so I snuck in through the back. It was Mother, all right. She was in the kitchen talking with someone dressed in a long, black overcoat with the hood pulled up. His long boots were cinched tight over baggy pants. He took a plate from her. His hand was silver.

  “Spindle?”

  Spindle pushed the hood back and the red eyelight spun on his smooth faceplate. “Master Socket!”

  “You’re alive!”

  “I am, Master Socket! I am alive!”

  “But… the last time I saw you… you were…”

  “Oh, this is not my original bodyshell, Master Socket. I have been uploaded to a new one.”

  The body didn’t survive, but Spindle did. “It’s not the body that makes the man…”

  “But the heart,” he finished.

  Even though Spindle was a database, technically he didn’t exist, I still hated it when he broke a body, especially when I did it to him. But he could cheat death by downloading into another body.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “I cannot discuss the exercise. The analysis, however, is complete. Pon will discuss the results upon your return.”

  Bright colors rippled on the surface of his faceplate.

  “It’s good to see you,” I said.

  “Thank you for inviting me.”

  “Inviting you?”

  “You invited me to come home,” he said. “Do you not remember?”

  “Spindle has come along for observation,” Mother said. “He wants to experience a public event.”

  The world was different than it was a year ago. Ever since the Paladins became known, their technology was finding its way into the public like never before. In hindsight, Paladins were behind every major discovery for the last decade. Most people thought Steve Jobs and Bill Gates were Paladins. (They’re not.) These days, humanoid mechs, like Spindle, weren’t impossible to see in public, it just meant you were sloppy rich. But even the wealthy didn’t have humanoid mechs of Spindle’s caliber. Spindle could pass for a man. If he had a face.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “To the tagghet game with you.” His eyelight focused on my mother, darker colors stormed his faceplate. “Have you not told him?”

  “I wanted it to be a surprise,” she said, on her way to the bedroom.

  “Are you disappointed, Master Socket?”

  “Am I… no! No, I’d love for you to come. I just… uh…”

  “What is it?”

  “I just was wondering why you’re dressed like a commando.”

  He pulled the hood over his face. The eyelight dimmed until it was difficult to see the featureless aspect of his faceplate. He showed his hand, front then back. The silver tinge sparkled, then darkened to a healthy tan.

  “It will lessen the burden of attention. We can enjoy some privacy in the crowd.”

  He was wearing pants and a shirt, boots and coat in South Carolina. People would avoid us, all right. The cops, however, might want to ask some questions.

  “You look psycho,” I said.

  “Wonderful! I am so looking forward to experiencing a public school tagghet event in South Carolina. I have heard so much about the fan’s fervor, and Master Chute is quite good. Currently, she holds the national record for female taggers in assists and single-game goals.”

  She does?

  “She is currently ranked in South Carolina’s top ten taggers. It will be quite a
joy to see her play tonight, and I know her!” He tilted his head. “I would expect you to know these details about her. She is your girlfriend, after all.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Will Master Streeter be joining us?”

  “Ummm… yeah, maybe.”

  He pumped his fist. “That is great news, also!”

  Any other day, Streeter would love sitting next to a humanoid mech. In fact, he’d pull off Spindle’s hood and show him off. Now, I don’t think he’d give a rat’s ass.

  “I can prepare dinner,” Spindle said. “You may relax, Master Kay.”

  Mother grinned. “That’s all right, Spindle. I’d enjoy doing it myself. I think Socket would like to spend some time with you.”

  Even though Spindle was anatomically neutral, I still preferred he wear something when we sparred, so he stripped down to his shorts. His new body was quicker and stronger. By the time we were done wrestling, my clothes were soaked with sweat and I was aching. It only took three days to lose my edge.

  “I like this new bodyshell.” Spindle admired his hands. “It seems more capable.”

  He started doing Tai Chi in the center of the lawn, where we wore out the grass. His faceplate was frosty, subtle hints of green. Perhaps the bodyshell was an upgrade, one that knew Tai Chi. Could I best him in the desert exercise with this one? Would he be crushed against a boulder this time?

  “I had a dream after the pre-Trial exercise,” I said.

  “Oh, really?” he said, striking a pose. “What was it?”

  “You had me pinned against the rock, pushing your hand through my shield. You were about to best me.”

  “That was not a dream.”

  “Yeah, well then I saw something else. I saw this kid with his dad. I’d seen them a few days earlier when I went home to see Chute; they were at the tagghet game. But then I dreamed they were there, in the pre-Trial, standing right behind you. He kept asking if I was thirsty.”

  Spindle turned slowly. “That is very interesting.”